Game Play
by All-things
Summary: A Gestapo General has a twisted game for Hogan to play. ::READER PARTICIPATION:: Read the author's notes for more info.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello, in this story you get to decide the fate of the characters. I'll provide a riddle in the story and you have to guess the answer. The answer (there will be only four) that gets the most votes is the one that I will write the next chapter to. But be careful, there is only one correct answer. If you get it wrong there will be disastrous consequences for the characters involved.

This is a two-shot, so I will not embellish on the outcome, but feel free to do so yourself if you feel inclined.

This was written just for fun, so no pressure. Read the author's note at the end for more clarification. Thanks to Deana for beta reading it.

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Game Play

Col. Hogan woke up in a dark, dingy cell. He was lying on a rickety cot that squeaked every time he moved. Sitting up, he looked around. He was alone, and that made him worry. Where were his men? They had been with him when that Gestapo General came to Stalag 13 and took them away despite Klink's best effort to stop him, not that it amounted to much anyway. The last thing he remembered was him and his men sitting in the back of the truck, watching the POW camp get smaller and smaller until they had turned onto a different road. What happened in between now and then? Hogan didn't know, but it turned his stomach to think about it.

He was pulled from his thoughts when the door to his cell opened. In came the General. He was tall with a slender build. His blue eyes were sharp, and Hogan doubted that much got passed that piercing gaze. The German's face was long and thin, topped off with greying blond hair. A model German.

"Ah, I see that you are awake," he said. His thick accent would have been hard to understand if you weren't used to hearing such poor English.

"Where are my men?" Hogan demanded.

"Straight to the point, no 'beating around the bush' as you Americans say. A redeeming feature."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Don't worry, Papa Bear, you will see them soon."

"Who?" Hogan said without missing a beat, a beat in the conversation that is, his heart may have skipped a couple.

The General nodded. "Of course you would deny it. But I know you are Papa Bear. It took a long time, but I finally have found you."

"You're almost as crazy as that major from Hamelberg. He seems to think I'm this Papa Bear fella too."

"And he is right. In fact, it is his suspicions that have led me to you. I have been searching for the famous Papa Bear since I have first heard of you. When I heard of the mysterious happenings around Hamelberg, I paid a visit to Major Hochstetter. He was more than willing to be of assistance."

"So you think I'm Papa Bear because of some loon's delusions?"

"Major Hochstetter is not as stupid as he acts."

"Oh, please. The guy's a nutcase, just like Hitler."

The General didn't respond to that, instead he pulled out a gun. "I have a game for you."

"A game?" Hogan asked in disbelief.

"Yes."

"What? If I lose are you going to shoot me? No thanks, my mom told me never to play with guns."

"No, I will not shot you. You are going to be the one with the gun."

Hogan laughed, "Yeah, right. No German in their right mind would give a prisoner a gun."

"Who said I was in my right mind?"

Hogan didn't answer. Neither spoke for a while, then Hogan asked, "What's the game?"

The General smiled at that. "Your men are in a room, not too far from here. One of them is spy. He has switched places with one of your men and it is your job to figure out which one he is. You will have thirty minutes to pick who you think it is and then you will take this gun and kill him."

"What? You're crazy."

"If you do not, I will kill your men right before your eyes, slowly and painfully."

Anger rose up in Hogan as he stared at the General. "So if I don't play your twisted game then my men are dead."

"Precisely."

"Do I get a clue or something?"

"I think that could be arranged."

"What about the man that the spy is impersonating? What happens to him?"

"Nothing. He is being held in a different cell."

"What if I lose?"

"Then you will live the rest of your life knowing that you killed one of your men."

~I~

Hogan had never been this nervous in his whole life. Right now, he was being led to the room where his men and the spy were waiting. The clue that the General gave didn't help much. To Hogan's surprise, it had been in the form of a riddle. _"Impersonator of many. With feathers to soar. The arrow points west. The innocent is always guilty."_

First of all, they've all impersonated Germans many times, whether in person or on the phone. The second line was a little more specific, since Newkirk's code name was Mockingbird. But then the third one ruled out the Englishman, because an arrow pointing west would indicate America. The last line was just an oxymoron. If someone was innocent then they wouldn't be guilty.

Hogan was still puzzling over the riddle when they reached the cell were he would have to make the hardest choice of his life. As one of the guards was opening the door, Hogan felt the other one tucking something in the back of his pants under his bomber jacket. It felt like a gun.

Without farther ado, he was shoved in the cell. The door shut and locked behind him.

"_Mon Colonenel!_ Are you all right? Did they hurt you?" came LeBeau's unmistakable French accented voice.

Before he knew what was happening, his men were all crowding around him with concerned expressions.

"I'm fine. They just asked me some questions," Hogan said walking to the middle of the cell.

"What'd they want, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"I don't know," Hogan lied, "They mostly asked about the camp."

"Why would they want to know about Stalag 13?" Carter wondered.

"Who knows?" Newkirk answered, "Maybe ol' Klink got caught with the wrong bird?"

Hogan studied the men around him. They sounded and moved like the real McCoy's. There wasn't anything different that he could see.

"All right, fellas, standing here isn't going to change anything, so we may as well get comfortable," he suggested.

They sat down. Since there were no chairs or even a cot, they all seated themselves on the floor; Hogan against the wall to the right of the door, Kinch and Carter at the left wall, and LeBeau and Newkirk opposite the door. As the others talked, Hogan watched them. This was something he couldn't afford to fail.

The key was the riddle. But he was still confused as to what it meant. Out of all of them, Newkirk and Kinch were probably the two that impersonated the most Germans. Newkirk had a knack when it came to acting and Kinch's German was flawless. But that didn't rule out the others. Carter was the best at Generals and commanding officers. LeBeau wasn't as good as the others, but he still did a lot of acting himself.

Feathers. He had no clue as to what that meant. There was Newkirk's code name, or maybe a reference to the duck LeBeau kept for his omelets, but that wasn't likely. It could mean Indian feathers. Carter was part Indian, but then how would the General know that? The Germans could have found out about Newkirk's code name easily.

_The arrow points west._ West could mean America and France, not so much England. Maybe it wasn't so much about the direction as about the arrow. Again, Carter was Indian. He had a bow and arrow. But as it turns out, Newkirk was a better aim then Carter. _"A descendent of Robin Hood,"_ he said, though Hogan personally thought it was due to his background with the circus.

But then there was the last line. The innocent are always guilty. Maybe it meant Carter, who probably never broke the law in his life before the war. Perhaps the last line was the defining feature. Out of all of them, Kinch seemed the most innocent. The first three lines had next to nothing to do with him. He seemed innocent according to the riddle, but maybe he was the guilty one?

Hogan had never been so scared of making the wrong decision. His stomach turned nauseously and his chest ached. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see that his thirty minutes were up. It was time to make a choice.

Hogan stood.

The others stopped talking to look at him.

"What's wrong, Colonel?" Carter asked.

With shaky hands, he drew out the gun.

"Colonel, where did you get that?" Kinch said with surprise.

He hesitated for a moment before making his decision.

"_Mon Colonenel?_"

"Gov'ner, you all right?"

He pointed the gun and fired.

TBC

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A/N: Okay, so there it is. Now it's up to you on who gets killed; Carter, Newkirk, Kinch, or LeBeau. You can put in your vote by leaving a review and whoever gets the most votes will be the one to die. But like I said, there is only one right answer. So if you get it wrong, then Hogan will shoot one of his men and not the spy. Good luck and have fun. I'll wait for two weeks before I write and post the outcome.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: By popular vote, (almost unanimous) Carter is the one who Hogan shot. Now you get to see if you all are correct. Enjoy.

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Chapter Two: End Game

_Bang!_

The din of the gun going off filled the cell, ricocheting off the walls and bouncing back to assault Hogan's ears. The sickening sound of a bullet hitting flesh pierced the clamor like a knife, causing his stomach to turn. The room stilled as they watched to body of Andrew Carter slump to the ground. The silence that followed was just as deafening as the gunshot. With shocked faces, the remaining men stared at the dead man. Hogan did it. He'd played the game and he hoped, _prayed_, that he had guessed right.

Newkirk was the first to come to life. Rising to his feet he advanced on Hogan with his fists posed and ready for a beating. _"You ruddy monster!"_ he yelled.

Behind him LeBeau was by Carter's side and began to shake him, "Andre? _Andre!_ _Pas, pas, _wake up! _Réveiller!"_

Newkirk swung his fists and Hogan dodged. "Newkirk! Let me explain!" he shouted desperately, but the Englishman didn't heed him. He just threw blow after blow at Hogan, who'd managed to evade most but not all. Clenched knuckles smashed into his jaw caused him to stumble backwards, then sheering pain exploded in his gut and he doubled over onto the floor. He flinched, expecting more punches to rain down on him, but they didn't. Instead he heard curses coming from that Cockney voice and when he looked up he saw that Kinch was restraining Newkirk, who was struggling to get free.

"Let me go! I'm goin' ta kill 'im!" Newkirk screamed. The look of utter hatred in those light green eyes scared Hogan.

Kinch held the struggling man, never relinquishing his firm hold. His face was blank but Hogan could see the confusion and anger in it. "Colonel, I think you'd better explain yourself." His tone was cold and hard.

Hogan looked at his men and had no doubt that they would hurt him if he didn't tell them about the game. As he began to relate what the general had said, he hoped that they would believe him. The gun had long been discarded and now lay off in a corner. His men watched him with stony expressions. The collection of brown and green orbs scrutinized his every move, searching for any sign of falsehood. When he was done with his story, nobody moved. Then Hogan realized that this were his men. Each and every one had acted accordingly with their personality and character. No spy would have been able to do that without intense study. But then, how did the General know all those things about Carter? What if the sergeant really wasn't the one? The riddle in itself shouts the word _research!_ The General had to have studied them in order to know what to put in the clue he gave Hogan. How? When? What did the Gestapo know about him and his men, personally and professionally?

Before anything else happened the door to the cell opened and in came the General and two guards.

"Congratulations, Colonel Hogan. You are smarter than I thought," the Gestapo man applauded.

Then it hit Hogan. "You knew I would figure it out. You just planned this whole thing to mess with my head."

"Impressive," the older man acknowledged. "You are, indeed, smarter than I thought." The general turned his head towards the open door and gave a commanding nod. Two more guards came in with the real Andrew Carter slumped between them. They dragged the younger American in and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor before leaving.

"Andrew," Newkirk breathed. Immediately the three prisoners, besides Hogan, went to their comrade's side. "Wot'd you do to 'im?" the RAF pilot demanded.

"Nothing, he is just sedated. He will come around in no time," the General soothed.

"Okay, so I won your game. What now?" Hogan asked.

"Now? You will see, Papa Bear."

Hogan sighed heavily, "I've told you already. I'm not Papa Bear. I'm just a normal POW who has no clue what you're talking about."

The German dipped his head while still keeping his eyes on Hogan. "I know how to get a man like you to break, Colonel."

Without realizing, Hogan glanced at his men when the General said that. "You leave them alone. They don't know anything either."

"We shall see about that," the German man smirked as he made his exit, leaving the POWs alone.

"_Colonenel,_ what is going on?" LeBeau demanded while still kneeling besides Carter's unconscious form.

Hogan sighed. "It's like I told you guys. That creep was playing games with me." Frustrated, he began to pace. "We need to get out of here," he muttered then he said louder, "How is he?" He pointed with his chin to their demolitions expert.

"He's out cold," Kinch answered. The radioman then shifted the younger American to a more comfortable position on the floor.

Newkirk stood up and hesitantly made his way to Hogan. "Colonel, I…" he started sheepishly.

Hogan took pity on the thief. "I know, Newkirk, and I don't blame you. You thought I killed Carter. If I were in your shoes, I probably would've done the same."

The RAF pilot looked up at him in relief. "Ta, Gov'ner."

A soft moan interrupted them. Everyone turned to see Carter starting to wake.

"Hey, bubby, how ya doing?" asked Kinch as he helped the younger man to sit up. The others gathered around him.

"Ugh—my head," Carter groaned as he placed a hand to his forehead.

Hogan felt relief that he hadn't had the time to feel earlier wash over him. He did it. His men were alive and well. He didn't think he would be able to live with himself if he'd killed one of them. Now he needed to get them out of here and to safety.

"Andrew, are you all right, mate?" Newkirk asked nervously while kneeling next to the American.

"Yeah, I think. My head hurts," Carter replied. He looked around the cell and asked, "What happened?"

"Some filthy, boche general was messing with the _Colonenel_ and used you to do it," LeBeau explained furiously.

"Are you okay, sir?" Carter asked turning to his CO.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What do you remember?" Hogan probed.

"Not much. I remember being in the back of a truck with you guys and then waking up here on the floor," the younger man answered.

"You don't seem hurt," Hogan observed. "Hmm…if the General wants information than why would he bring you back here with us unharmed? Why not use you to gain leverage?"

"Well, to be 'onest, sir, I don't think there's much more leverage the Jerry can get on us," Newkirk pointed out. "After all, we're still trapped in this ruddy cell."

"True," Hogan agreed, "But if he _is_ playing mind games with me then why not keep Carter in a separate cell to keep me wondering if he's still alive?"

"That's a good question," Kinch nodded.

"Why would the Gestapo play mind games with you, Colonel?" wondered Carter.

"Do they need a reason besides being the Gestapo?" LeBeau snorted.

Carter gave him a nervous smirk. "No, uh, I guess not."

"Hmm…" Hogan hummed. He stood up from where he'd been kneeling and began to pace. After a few seconds he stopped and turned to his men. "Well, whatever this guy's up to it's not going to work. We're going to escape."

"Are you ruddy mad?" Newkirk piped. "'Ow do you expect us to do that? Knock on the door and say, 'Excuse me, good chap, but would you mind opening this door, please?'"

"Newkirk's right, sir. How are we going to get out of here? This is the Gestapo we're talking about," Kinch said.

Hogan began to pace again. They had to get out. Who knew what that crazy General was going to do to them next? He had to think of a way out.

Seconds turn to minutes, minutes turned to hours, and Hogan was still pacing and thinking. The others had long since wandered to the various edges of the cell. Carter and LeBeau were amusing themselves with some game that you play with your hands. Newkirk was trying to take a nap though he wasn't very successful. Kinch was staring at the floor, obviously lost in thought. The silence in the room held a sense of gloom and doom. Frustration was easily building up in Hogan. Why couldn't he think of anything? Was this really the end? Could he really do nothing to save them?

His desperate thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. _This is it,_ he thought. He looked at his men, who were standing now. Their expressions were blank, their stance steady. Hogan felt proud of them. With a sad sigh, he looked over to their visitors. His breath caught when he saw who was standing in the doorway. It was none other than Maurice Dubois. He was dressed in a Luftwaffe captain's uniform. Two other underground agents were behind him in similar attire.

"Are you the men from Stalag 13?" he demanded.

Careful to not give anything away, Hogan pretended to give Dubois a once over and said in a mistrusting tone, "Yeah, why?"

"Come with us. We are to bring you back to camp," Dubois sapped, ignoring Hogan's question.

Hogan looked to his men, who were pretending to be hesitant, and gave them a confirming nod. They followed the disguised underground men out the door and into the hallway. The General was there, looking very annoyed. As they passed him, Dubois paused and said, "Next time you take prisoners without permission from a _Luftwaffe _POW camp, General Burkhalter will see to it that you are on your way to the Russian Front."

The General's blue eyes darkened. "Are you sure it is wise to threaten the Gestapo, _Captain_ Minsk?"

"We shall see. But I'm sure the Führer will not approve of your conduct. _Heil Hitler,_" the underground agent saluted. With that, they left.

When they were in the back of a truck, rumbling along the road farther and farther from the place they had been held, Hogan sighed in utter relief.

"Dubois! Boy, are we glad to see you fellas," he smiled.

Dubois, who was sitting up front, turned in his seat to look at him through the open tarp. "When we heard that Papa Bear and his men were in trouble, we could not sit by and do nothing."

"Well, we're sure glad you didn't," Hogan said and his men all voiced their agreement. "How'd you get the General to let us go?"

"This whole plan was Tiger's idea. She received a message from your man, Olsen, and made a plan to get you out much like you did when she was held by the Gestapo in Paris. It was pure luck that General Wilken had taken you without legal confirmation from General Burkhalter."

"So you mean, wot you said back there to the bloke was true?" asked Newkirk.

"Yes, and with that piece of information, the rest just fell into place."

Hogan marveled at the unexplainable luck they had had. If the General had taken them legally, then they would probably have been tortured and killed before the underground had come up with a plan of action. He shook his head. What a nightmare. He'll never forget the brief moment when he thought he'd killed Carter. He'll never forget the feel of Newkirk's fist colliding with his flesh or the utter hate he'd seen coming from his mens' eyes. Never, _never,_ did he want to go through something as guilt-raking and fear-clenching as today had been. Looking at his men smiling and laughing, Hogan was finally able to relax…at least until their next venture.

The End

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A/N: Congratulations, y'all guessed right. I hope I wrapped it all up well. Sorry it took so long to post, but I've been really busy. Thanks to all of you who participated and I hope you had as much fun as me. Thank you, Deana, for beta reading this story so the others won't have to read my mistakes.


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